


hysteria

by trilliananders



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Breeding Kink, Cheating, Dubious Consent, F/M, Medical Kink, Smut, Victorian!AU, doctor!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22698949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trilliananders/pseuds/trilliananders
Summary: after years of not baring a child for the loving earl you’d married, tensions run high. your irritability paired with his wandering eye leads you to the good doctor for treatment for what your husband is sure ails you, hysteria. the answer to all of your problems is a simple massage.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character, Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers/You
Comments: 11
Kudos: 317





	hysteria

Your body trembled beneath your shift. You had been instructed to undress behind the partition and now as you stood there indecent; your nipples pebbled in the cold air of the examination room. You’d never undergone a treatment that required you in a state of undress as this one did. You were sure once you had become with child that you’d undergo a similar examination to this. You steeled yourself with the thought, this was preparation for that. 

The table was ominous, stir ups shifted to the side and out of the way giving you the ability to sit yourself between them, scooting your bottom back against the padded surface, waiting for the Doctor to enter. 

Hysteria. 

You’d heard of other women being diagnosed with the same. Other wives. Women in your sewing circle that would disappear for a day and come back invigorated a flush to their cheeks and a soft dream of a smile on their lips. Your husband, James Barnes, an Earl under your Queen’s reign had hoped the same result for you. 

It was a good match, you and your husband. Everyone thought so. You’d met while you were a debutante, a young woman newly introduced to society. You had clung to the idea of your girlhood with loose hands, ready to finally find true love, the kind you read about in the novels your father hated. The only reason you’d been allowed the privilege of literacy was for the simple fact that your mother had argued it would help in fetching an intelligent match, someone well versed in literature as well as politics. A well bred girl who could supply her husband with interesting facts and tidbits strung from the morning paper. 

He was handsome, your Earl. You’d been smitten with him almost immediately. He sang prose with his letters, bought you gifts, he had proposed marriage only a week after meeting you. He was charming, sweet you thought. 

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on.” He’d once whispered against your mouth. A torrid kiss shared before the two of you wed. Stolen from you when your chaperone was in the middle of a coughing fit, the old bag was your governess and had been since you could walk. You remember your lips tingling and your belly was in knots, a thrumming heat between your thighs you had no means to address. 

You were excited for marriage. Hopeful. The wedding day was bliss. Standing before God and your families, proclaiming love and dedication until the day either of you die while exchanging lusty glances and flushed cheeks. You’d danced, drank, and grew increasingly more nervous about your wedding night. The gentle, ‘Lie back and think of England’ your Mother had so kindly gifted you earlier making your heart race in your chest. 

You found the experience, not what you’d expected. His weeping cock pressed hastily into your dry channel, the pain, the blood. It was unbearably uncomfortable and you found yourself clutching the sheets and trying to take yourself somewhere else, anywhere else until he was spent, hips stuttering against yours as he spilled his seed. There was a silent hope that it would take root in your womb, bearing the fruit you’d so desperately craved. 

No fruit came. 

Your husband grew irritable with it. The barrenness of his wife. Of you. Time after time he spent his seed inside of you with nothing produced from it. You’d began to get despondent. Irritable. Prone to fits of rage. You’d more than once imagined stabbing him as you thread a needle through the taut fabric of needlepoint during your sewing circle. He’d begun to resent you. He was spending less and less time in your bed. You’d begun to think he’d taken a mistress. Someone to at least give him a bastard. 

You cursed your barren womb. You’d always dreamed of becoming a mother and that dream had now been tarnished. What good of a wife could you really be if you didn’t fulfill your wifely duties. It had surprised you when he’d come home yesterday claiming he found a resolution to your issue. 

He knelt by your feet, “Darling you’re just suffering from hysteria.” He said, “I’ve talked to a good Doctor and he’s agreed to treat you for this ailment.” You’d do anything to make him happy. If this Doctor could cure you of the emotional unrest you’d been feeling, “I’m sure after this we will finally have a child.” He’d said with a kind smile, “I’m sure of it.” 

You’d been cold in this examination room for what you’d guess was ten minutes. The cotton hose doing little to keep your toes warm, you’d wished you knew what was about to occur beforehand, at least then you would have worn wool. The door knob turned, swinging open quickly and just as quickly shut for decency. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you lay eyes upon your doctor. He was handsome, dark blonde hair long enough to curl on the nape of his neck. A thick beard on his face, one not afforded to an Earl for appearances sake. 

A gentle thrum in your core, something you’d come to know as a symptom of your hysteria. Your throat was suddenly dry. 

“How are you today Mrs. Barnes?” The Doctor smiled at you, taking a seat in the chair by his desk. 

“Very well, thank you.” You answered meekly. You’d suddenly felt very exposed in front of him as his eyes scanned you tip to toe. A Doctor, you had to remind yourself, a medical professional. 

“No need to be nervous Mrs. Barnes,” His eyes crinkled at the corners, handsome with a kind face. “I assure you this procedure is tried and true.” He looked at the few papers on his desk. Your medical history you assumed. “No pregnancy?” He asked, looking at you with a strange expression. You and your husband had been married for almost five years now with no offspring. It was a look you’ve received many times. The pity, followed by a round of gossip that would reach your ear a day or two later. 

“No, sir.” You shifted nervously against the table. He hummed, studying you for a minute. 

“A barren wife is unfortunate for Earl Barnes.” Heart dropping in your chest you avoided his gaze. “No matter,” He stood from his chair, “You’re not here for that, are you?” You shake your head, still looking to the side. Charts and drawings on the walls of different procedures. His warm fingers cup your chin, turning your face and tipping it to make your eyes meet his. “There’s no need to be nervous Mrs. Barnes. Now, lie back for me.” 

The table was cold against your back, legs hanging awkwardly over the edge. His warm hands making contact with your legs made you jump, setting your eyes on his form. His fingers were soft, so soft. “There we are,” He soothed, placing your legs in the stirrups and moving them to a position that was almost uncomfortably wide. You shivered at the touch of his hand on your bare bottom, barely a brush, “Just scoot down for me love.” The rumbling timbre of his voice was relaxing as you followed his instructions. “Meet my hand.” 

You’d shifted yourself down until your buttocks were practically hanging off the table. Your body flushed in embarrassment as he moved your shift to your waist. Eyes roved the length of you, the forbidden junction between your thighs that only your husband had ever seen. You rested your hands on your stomach, a large hand coming to cover them. “Relax Mrs. Barnes,” He soothed, thumb caressing your skin before removing it, placing his hands on your trembling thighs. “Many women have this procedure,” He starts, “Many women come in here just as frightened and shaken in nerves as you.” His gentle fingers moved closer and closer to their prize, you could feel a chill against your vaginal lips as you felt yourself dampen. His thumbs met your curls, drifting down, down to press against your labia to spread you open. 

“Very good.” He said, almost to himself, eyes meeting yours, “I’ve got to dampen you a bit more. We are going to start with an external exam and then we will continue to the internal exam Mrs. Barnes. Let me know if you feel any discomfort.” 

His large thumbs gently massaged your labia, softly running the length spreading them and pushing them together, a jolt going through what you knew from anatomy was your clitoris every time he pressed your lips closed. He lay a hand on your mons, thumb coming to pull your clitoral hood back, exposing the bundle of nerves to the cold air of the office. Your breath hitched. 

“Are you doing alright, Mrs. Barnes?” The Doctor asked. You shifted, the tug on your clit making you whimper slightly. 

“Y-yes Doctor.” A smirk coming across his face, he nodded, directing his eyes back to your flushed pussy. 

“Good.” His thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing in tight slow circles, your hips bucked slightly from the table, breath catching. The low timbre of his voice soothes, “Try to keep still for me.” The tight circles he was rubbing on your clitoris made your chest flush, cheeks turning red as you tried to stifle your whimpers. “You can be vocal here, it’s all part of the treatment.” With his permission you let out a loud moan, head turning to the side, panting as he began to speed his movements, your hips steadily rocking against his hands. 

What was this? You’d felt some inkling of this before. Usually in your marital bed, laying under your husband. But it had never gotten this far. This desperate need for the good Doctor to not stop, please don’t stop. Eyes rolling as you reached your crest, a loud moan ripping from your throat as he worked you through it, licking his pink lips and saying, “That’s it, cum for me.” 

His assault tapered as he let you lay there, catching your breath, hands laying idly by your head where they once gripped the sides of the examination table. 

“Mrs. Barnes, I’m going to begin something that will feel a bit unorthodox but I assure you it has its own medical purpose.” You looked down at the Doctor whose eyes you were sure once were blue but now pupils blown wide, lips wet and pink tongue peeking from between them. “Are you ready to continue?” You nodded, hands coming to grip the sides of the table once more as he scoots his stool back, bending over slightly to blow gently on your sensitive pussy.

The tip of his tongue brushed your clit, it makes you shiver, his eyes trapped on yours. He flattened his tongue, licking the length of your pussy, your mouth dropping open as he traced your opening with the tip of it, dipping it inside, a soft moan parting your throat. 

His tongue traced it’s way back to your clit, circling it before attacking it with steady licks. His arms came to wrap around your hips, splaying wide, thumb exposing your clit to his steady and practiced assault. The feeling returned but slightly different. The soft wet tongue felt so different from his soft fingers moments before. 

You were panting. You wanted it. You wanted to cum like he made you do before. You’d wanted it more than anything you’d ever wanted before in your entire life. Legs shaking in the stirrups, his strong arms holding you down, his beard scratching the sensitive skin between your thighs you could feel your release rapidly approaching. 

As you could feel it, the beginnings of it, you could almost swear you were hearing the Doctor moaning too, tongue lavishing your pussy as your hips stuttered under his arms, cumming for him. A few soft licks in the aftershocks and he removed himself from you once again, letting you recover. 

“How are you feeling Mrs. Barnes?” The Doctor’s soft hands rubbing your thighs soothingly. You let out a shaky breath before meeting his eyes.

“I’m feeling fine Doctor.” His lips spread back into a smirk.

“Call me Steve,” He spread your labia with his fingers again, “I believe I should be your Doctor from here on,” A finger traced your opening, “We should get familiar with one another, shouldn’t we?” You blushed heavily, 

“I suppose so.” Steve’s eyes drifted back down to your spread pussy, finger still tracing your opening. 

“How often do you and your husband copulate?” A shiver went down your spine as a soft squelching sound pierced the air, his finger entering your channel. You gasped, 

“Less frequently since we’ve found me barren.” Your heart clenched in your chest at the thought, “I’m sure he’s found another bed.” You don’t know why you would admit that now, shame washing over you. Steve scoffed between your thighs,

“I tend to find more men barren than their wives.” He spoke sternly. “Men always find fault with women,” He removed his finger, pressing two together and admiring the strings of a sticky substance that appeared when he parted them. “When it’s their own empty sac to blame.” A loud gasp left your throat as he sunk two fingers in your channel, a loud squelching sound that made him groan. “I’m going to begin your internal examination darling. You’ll have to let me know how you feel as I look for something very specific. It’s very crucial to your future conception.” 

As soon as the sentence finished in his mouth his fingers found purchase against the spongy texture of what you’d assumed he’d been looking for, eyes going cross as a loud involuntary moan ripped itself from your throat. He chuckled, “It seems I’ve found it.” His fingers gently prodded the spot, a hand coming to still your bucking hips as he began to work it. A pressure building almost like in your bladder, the fear of urinating on the poor doctor giving you apprehension, body tensing.

“You must relax.” He soothed, rubbing your belly before pressing the heel of his palm against it, placing pressure on your bladder and uterus. “This release if necessary for the future conception.” You tried to relax, one hand placed over his on your belly, the other gripping the table tightly. He curled his fingers inside you, lifting the heel of his palm to press against your clit he began the motion of rubbing the spot and your clit simultaneously, your legs attempting to close to the overstimulating assault. You couldn’t think of anything else. The pressure of his hand on your soft belly gave you no choice in the matter, 

“That’s it darling, cum for me.” He stood from his stool, increasing his efforts as you released over him. Soaking the floor, the lap of his pants, and the bottom of his shirt. A few squirts of your release coming sporadically in the aftershocks, his fingers slowing as you limply fell back against the table. 

You were dizzy with it. Sensitive, tears in the corners of your eyes. The hand that was pressed against your belly came up to cup your chin, turning your face to him where he stood above you, between your spread legs. He brushed the hair off your damp forehead. “He doesn’t deserve you,” Steve whispered softly. “He doesn’t deserve you at all.” You could see his arousal. It strained against the buttons of his damp slacks, his dripping hand coming to pluck the buttons from their holes, exposing the white of his drawers. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, before he leaned over you, pressing his lips to yours.

This was adultery. A cardinal sin. One you had vowed never to commit. The press of his lips on yours, lips that hadn’t been touched by anyone but your husband. But you couldn’t stop yourself. You were drunk with it. The smell in the air, the feeling of his beard against your soft skin, the way his hair felt under your fingertips as you pulled his face closer to yours, letting him consume you. 

His length fell heavy against your labia, a moan whispered against his lips as he gently pried the shift from your damp skin, tossing it aside to be forgotten. Your lips parted, his eyes locked with yours, his arms resting on either side of you. Nipples brushing against his chest. The most intimate feeling you’d ever had in your life. His soft lips pressed to your cheek and down along your jaw, tracing the length of your neck before returning up the other side, a breath away from your own lips as he shifted his hips, the head of his cock pressed against your entrance. 

You’d braced yourself for the pain. The discomfort, ready to disappear into thoughts of embroidery or plans for the next day, but you’d felt none of that. A burning stretch, yes, but also a pleasure similar to the kind you’d been feeling during the entire examination. The press of him delicious and full of sin. You’d been breached by a man unwed to you. You were an adulteress. But at the moment you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. 

A gasp into his open mouth as his hips fully met yours. “Steve.” You whimpered. 

“I know darling,” He gently rolled his hips, “I know.” Nothing could compare to the way it felt when he drug his length from you before thrusting himself back in, grazing the spot he’d just so carefully worked over with his fingers. The wet sound was obscene as he worked his hips against yours. The pleasurable drag of his cock against your walls, hips meeting each other in a punishing pace. Both working hard to reach the mutual release you’d both craved. 

A hand dropped down to your breast, tweaking your nipple as his mouth met yours, moaning. “So good for me darling,” He’d whispered against your lips, “I’m going to give you a baby.” Your back arched as his hands met your hips, pulling you roughly against his own, the slap of your hips and eager moans filling the room. “You’ll swell with my child,” He panted, “The child your barren husband could not give you.” The stirrups shook, metal rattling as he brought a thumb to your clit. 

Close. 

So close. 

“You’ll have to cum for me one more time darling,” His cheeks flushed, bottom lip swollen from kissing, hips keeping a steady pace. “You’ll have to cum to take my seed in your womb.” His eyes drifted closed, hips haphazardly meeting yours as you felt his warm seed shooting against your cervix, the torrid thought of becoming pregnant with his child bringing you to find your own release, back arched and head rolling to the side. 

You suddenly shivered in the cold, coming down from your high. Steve was quick to remove your legs from the stirrups and press them together, pushing your knees to your chest as he looked at your leaking pussy, using his finger to push the few escaping drops of his seed back in. A sheet covered you soon after, his panting mouth slowing as he buttoned his slacks. 

He studied you for a moment, the two of you in clarity for the first time since the first orgasm had washed over your body. No longer drunk with lust, but irrevocably sober. He studied you for a minute, eyes sad. Your racing heart not calming, 

“You can’t tell your husband.” Steve whispered softly. “You’ll be a ruined woman and I’m sorry for that.” Your heart clenched in your chest, averting your eyes to the ceiling. “This seed will take root.” He stepped closer to you, brushing the hair from your forehead affectionately before placing a soft kiss there.

“He’s not faithful to me.” You said quietly. “You have to know this.” The man nodded. 

“The law is the law Y/N.” He sat heavily in the stool, watching you with sad eyes. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.” You nodded, throat thick with emotion. 

“I know.” 

The two of you could never be together just as an Earl could never divorce. Not unless his wife wrongs him in some way. A barren wife would be cause, but he was kind enough to let you stay. And after almost seven years of marriage it had suddenly, miraculously, bore fruit. 

A son. 

And luckily the good Doctor had informed your husband that weekly visits would be necessary for the future health of you and all of your future offspring. You’d always have that it seems, sewing clubs, babbling babies, and the torrid love affair producing them.


End file.
